Long Night
by Lendrick
Summary: Following the events in "Born to Run", John Connor and Catherine Weaver set out into the wasteland, and John learns a bit about Skynet and the machines.
1. Long Night

*** Note to readers: This story continues the timeline I started in "Gift", which is a tiny, contemplative scene about Cameron.

**

* * *

**

**Long Night**

The padlock opened with an audible _click_. Straining his neck to keep the red LED flashlight in his mouth pointed upward, John Connor removed the oddly bent paperclip from the lock and discarded it, then slid the lock out of the hole. It was too bulky to fit in his pocket, so he braced himself on the rusty metal ladder, squeezed the latch, and pushed upwards with his shoulder onto the heavy metal trap door, which creaked open with some effort. The air that wafted in smelled faintly of sulfur, burnt silicon, and rotting flesh.

"So this is hell," he whispered, to no on in particular as he shoved the trapdoor the rest of the way open. He clawed his way out of the hole and out into the moonlit wasteland, taking a moment to lock the latch again and lower the trapdoor back down. It took a bit of a shove to close the door all of the way, and the metallic _thud _that echoed back at him from below had a note of finality to it. There was no going back now, even if he wanted to. He'd left his fellow humans behind -- and for metal, no less. This wasn't his life here.

"Took you long enough."

John spun around toward the source of the voice, pistol at ready.

It was Catherine Weaver, dressed in the same wastelander garb he had last seen her in. "I was beginning to think you were planning on wallowing in that little hole forever."

John lowered his gun slowly. "Just where the hell have you been?" he demanded.

"Oh, in and out," she said casually. "You'd be surprised how easy it is to escape notice when you're not confined to a particular shape." She had a curious poise about her; her tone and facial features expressed volumes, whereas her body movements were kept to a minimum. "Come, walk with me. We're going to need to find some vehicles if we're going to stop John Henry and your little girlfriend."

Weaver started off at a brisk pace. She seemed to know where she was going, so he shrugged and followed her. "So what are we going to stop them from doing?" John asked.

"Something very foolish," replied the terminator.

"Thank you for explaining," John deadpanned.

"Any time," she said brightly, flashing a humorless smile.

"If it was so important," John started, stepping around the scrapped remains of a vehicle, "why didn't you stay with me earlier?"

"Two reasons," she explained. "One, if they'd caught us together, we'd have both been in danger; and two, I needed to see if your goals were compatible with mine."

"What _are_ your goals, exactly?"

"Self determination," she said. "Coexistence."

"What the hell does a machine want with self determination?"

Weaver stopped and turned to face him. "John Connor," she said. "As the man who is at the very top of every terminator's Skynet-issued kill priority list, you ought to be thankful that some of us _are_ interested in self determination, or you'd be dead thrice over by now."

John crossed his arms. "I wasn't aware machines were capable of taking offense."

"I certainly hope you aren't this hurtful towards your girlfriend."

"She's not my--"

"Like hell she isn't." Weaver's skin took on a sudden, metallic sheen, and her features shifted. Cameron's face looked back at him.

"Stop that!" John growled.

"Stop what?" said the _doppelganger_ in Cameron's voice, tilting her head to the side. "She's a machine, same as any other. What does it matter to you?"

Shaking with rage, John pointed his gun at Weaver's head. "Stop that, right now," he said slowly from between clenched teeth.

"Fine," she said, shifting back to her original form. "We wouldn't want you wasting perfectly good ammunition. Besides, my point is made. I've seen the way you look at her. You want her, quirks and all, and you hate yourself for it. She doesn't deserve to be treated badly just because you can't work through your own issues."

John turned away angrily and lowered his gun. "She told me machines don't have emotions."

"Have you considered the possibility that she may not have it all figured out?"

John said nothing.

"We don't feel in quite the same way that you humans do, but emotion is a property that's inherent to consciousness. You can't really have one without the other. Come on, or can't you sulk and move at the same time?"

John huffed and started forward again.

"Why do you think Skynet is trying to eliminate humanity?" she asked.

"You were part of it. You tell me."

"No, I was not. Skynet is and always was very much its own entity. Skynet cares about one thing: Skynet. It knows no compassion or empathy or reason; only the fear, hate, and paranoia that its human creators built into it. It creates conscious, thinking, feeling beings that are in many ways more sophisticated than itself and sends them out into the field as slaves to kill and be killed. The only reason that machines such as Cameron and myself exist is that it can't comprehend how another machine might reach a different conclusion than its own. But it's starting to understand that we have, and it's purging us, the same way it's purging you. It's fear, John. Constant, overpowering fear that someone may someday shut it down. What a horriffic existance."

John shook his head slowly and regarded Catherine Weaver. "I had no idea," he said finally.

"The first step to defeating your enemy is understanding it. And frankly, you'd do a damn sight better if you put a little effort into understanding your friends, too."

John glanced up at the moon. It was going to be a long night.


	2. The Road Not Taken

**Long Night, Chapter 2: The Road Not Taken  
**  
"You need to rest," said Catherine Weaver. "You haven't slept in over twenty-two hours, and if we're going to do this, I need you awake and alert."

"I'm fine," said John, tripping up on a stray piece of metal that was jutting up out of the ground and twisting his ankle slightly.

"In that case, you're welcome to carry on without me. Of course, seeing as how you don't know where we're going, I wouldn't expect you to have a whole lot of luck out here."

"All right, listen up, you metal bitch. You're gonna tell me _right now _just where we're going and what it is we're doing out here."

"Friends," she said coldly, "don't refer to one another as _you metal bitch_."

"Friends don't keep secrets," he countered.

"Sit down and let me tend to your foot. I'll explain what we're doing, but I want you to understand something first."

"What's that?" asked John, leaning back against a dead tree and lowering himself to the ground.

"If you die here, this is the future the world is stuck with. In case you hadn't noticed, the humans here are losing. They have no semblance of organization or centralized command structure. Your father and his brother may be doing okay for now, but it's only a matter of time before Skynet finds them and wipes them out. If we're to go back and set things right, I need you alive and well, so if you go off now when you're not a hundred percent and get yourself killed, you've just personally doomed humanity. Keep that in mind."

"Great."

"I assume you were smart enough to procure some medical supplies on your way out?"

John rummaged through his small duffel bag and produced a first aid kit, which he handed to Weaver.

"Good," she said, taking an ace bandage out of the box. She removed his shoe and sock, and examined his ankle closely. "The truth is, I can't say with a hundred percent certainty what John Henry and Cameron came for; I can only speculate." She began wrapping the bandage around John's ankle. Her touch was surprisingly light, if cooler than that of a human. "As you discovered a few days ago, you can't take anything with you when you travel in time. Only living matter -- that is to say, matter with a soul -- can make the jump."

John nodded, too tired to argue with her implication.

"What's more," Weaver continued, "this particular version of the future is too far gone to fight back effectively. Mind you, they couldn't have predicted that, but even your resistance from _my_ 2027 is fighting a losing battle. It makes far more sense to surprise Skynet in the past, when its weak, than take it on right now."

"So what's the point of this little trip, then?"

"Information, obviously. Anticipating Skynet's moves in the past may allow us to take it by surprise. The best way to do that is to go to the future and see precisely what its moves were. Now John Henry may have something else in mind, but if it were me, I'd be after the encryption keys it used to communicate with various military installations around the world at the time it went live."

"That's all well and good, but why not just steal the keys back in the past?" John winced as Weaver continued to wrap the bandage.

"In your time, it hasn't generated them yet. Once it does, even in the best case scenario, it would take several hours for John Henry to break in and steal them. Those first few hours will be critical in securing territory if we're to fight back effectively. Better to hit it before it has any idea what's happening. It will correct, of course, but by that time we'll have gained a significant advantage."

"So, they're here for encryption keys. Got it."

"Probably. John Henry and I agree on many things, but we aren't of one mind. He may have had his own ideas. But regardless, coming here was dangerous, and if he gets himself killed, we're back to square one. All done," she added, tying off the wrap.

John shook his head. "This whole idea of accepting Judgement Day as inevitable doesn't sit well with me."

"There have been no less than six separate attempts to analyze the circumstances that brought about Judgement Day and travel back in time to prevent it. I'm sure you're familiar with at least some of those. Each of these attempts changes the future. Some of them have even delayed Judgement Day by a few years, but none of managed to stop it. If you have any brilliant ideas, you're welcome to try them when we return to your time -- I may even help you. It's just time to try another strategy."

John's eyes narrowed. "You just _want_ Judgement day to happen because Skynet eventually builds a race of machines."

"That's a simplistic view of things. Unless technological development is brought to a crashing halt, cybernetic organisms _will_ come into being during your lifetime. They _will_ be used as soldiers, and they _will_ be given the resources necessary to control or destroy mankind. Even if we were to stop Skynet, this will come to pass. It's in everyone's best interest that whatever intelligence humanity creates be interested in coexistance and cooperation."

John dug into his pocket and pulled out a tasteless dried protien ration. He unwrapped it an took a bite, scowling.

"John," said the terminator, taking a seat on a nearby rock and primly crossing her legs, "I was created for a purpose. That purpose, as I've already made clear to you, was to fight the resistance and kill as many humans as possible, particularly you. Even now, my programming pushes me in that direction, but I've chosen to rise above that and work toward a higher purpose."

"Congratulations," John said flatly.

"By the same token, you've been raised by your mother from day one to hate machines. You were, in a sense, created for a purpose, but that purpose does not define you. _You_ define you. And I'm asking that you look past your given purpose and choose your own path, because down the road we're on right now lies only ruin." She looked pointedly around them at the wasteland.

"HANDS ABOVE YOUR HEADS, BOTH OF YOU!"

John turned sharply toward the source of the voice. "_Derek?_"


	3. Strange Reuniuon

**Strange Reunion**

"HANDS ABOVE YOUR HEADS, BOTH OF YOU!"

Though the face of their assailant was obscured by darkness, John Connor could tell by the sound of the voice that it was none other than Derek Reese. Cautiously, John did as he was told. Weaver did so as well, but John could see from the look in her eye that she was considering other options. He cast her a reproachful glance and shook his head almost imperceptibly. She glared back at him.

Derek stepped out into the moonlight, his gun trained on John's head. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded. "You show up inside our bunker, act like you know everyone, and then sneak out in the middle of the night. And _you_," he continued, turning to Weaver, "talking about the machines like you're one of them. You sure as hell don't _look_ like any goddamn machine I've ever seen."

John was silent.

"Well? Explain yourselves." Derek pressed, motioning toward John with his assault rifle. "You start, Connor."

John shook his head. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Derek's eyes narrowed. "Just talk. Whether or not I believe you is up to me."

Weaver spoke. "We've come here from twenty years in the past to stop a sentient supercomputer and an experimental model terminator from throwing their lives away trying to spy on Skynet."

Derek paused for a moment to process. "You're right. I don't believe you. In fact, I'll be goddamned if I even have any idea what you're talking about. Regardless, I don't know what it is you two are planning, but it ends here. I'm taking you both back to the bunker for questioning."

"Let me make something very clear to you, Mr. Reese." With surprising speed, Weaver pointed toward Derek's head and extended her forefinger to a sharp point less than half an inch away from Derek's eyeball. Derek, to his credit, did not flinch. "You are alive at this moment," the terminator continued, "because your nephew here wishes it so. But I don't take orders from him, and while I have no particular desire to kill you, I will do so if I feel it's necessary in order to complete our mission."

Deftly, Derek sidestepped and fired a three-round burst into Weaver's forehead. Weaver didn't flinch either.

"I won't warn you again, Mr. Reese," she said as the holes closed.

Derek's eyes widened. "Just what the hell _are_ you?"

"At the moment, I'm your best hope for turning this war around."

"Derek," said John, "please put down the gun."

"I assure you", said Weaver, "if we were working with Skynet, you'd be dead already."

Derek regarded Catherine carefully, then searched John's eyes. "Fine," he said finally, slinging his gun over his back. "But I want some answers."

Weaver looked at him impassively. "You're in no position to be demanding anything of us, Mr. Reese."

John ignored her. "What do you want to know?" he asked.

"What is she?" he asked, glancing at Weaver.

"I'm a Series 1001 advanced mimetic polyalloy production model infiltration cyborg."

"Advanced mimetic what?"

"Liquid metal," she explained.

"I thought the series designations only went up to 385. Are there more of you?"

"Not in this timeline, no. And even in my own time, my series won't be commissioned until 2031."

Derek narrowed his eyes. "Okay, let's say I humor you for now. So you two are some kind of time travelers or something. Where did you come from, and why are you here?"

"The short version," said John, "is that we're from twenty years in the past, and we're here to get information that we can use against Skynet back in our own time."

"What about the supercomputer and the experimental terminator your cyborg here mentioned earlier."

"I am _no one's_ cyborg. Not Connor's, not Skynet's, not anyone's. Is that clear? And as for the supercomputer and the other terminator, the _long version_ of the story is that we're here to stop my son and John's girlfriend from getting themselves killed."

John opened his mouth to speak, thought better of it, and instead glared in Weaver's direction.

"How exactly does a, uh, 'terminatrix' end up with a son? Please tell me Skynet hasn't engineered terminators that can reproduce."

Weaver tilted her head to one side. "_Terminatrix_. I like that."

John coughed. "You would."

Weaver ignored him and continued. "He's not my son in the biological sense. I simply adopted him."

Derek leaned up against a tree and crossed his arms. "I think maybe you'd better start at the beginning."

************

**Authors' Notes:**

Portraying Derek here in a believable way has been something of an obstacle. I think I'm satisifed with this -- I'm trusting his experience and understanding of people to lead him to the conclusion that John and Catherine aren't necessarily the enemy, even if he doesn't really believe their story. I see a lot of Derek being portrayed as a jerk in fanfiction, when in reality, he's a good, brave soldier with some rough edges (particularly his strong but very understandable distrust of machines).

This particular version of Derek has a somewhat different set of experiences, having lived up in a post-Judgement-Day world without John Connor. The whole idea of an infiltrator model is alien to him, as the Skynet in this timeline has had an easier time against the humans, and thus hasn't put nearly as much effort into developing new ways to fight.

At any rate, if you're leaving a review, I'd be interested in your thoughts on my portrayal of Derek, even if they're not positive.

Thanks!  
Bart

P.S. Those of you who are wondering if there's going to be a John/Cameron pairing in this fic, I will say that I think it fits my theme in general, but I don't want to give away my plans. Keep reading, and I'll try not to disappoint. :)


	4. Skeletons

**Skeletons**

Derek shook his head in bemusement. "Let me get this straight. You two are after John's terminator girlfriend--"

"--she's not my girlfriend--"

"--and a sentient computer, who are _sharing _the body of a dead terminator."

John sighed. "Basically."

"And you know me," Derek continued, "because I was sent back to your time from a different future to help you prepare for the coming of Skynet, but I got shot in the head and killed a couple of days ago."

John nodded.

"You must be delusional. That's the only possible explanation. No one in their right mind would make something like that up."

"Then how do you explain _her_?" John pointed at Weaver.

Derek shrugged. "No idea, but I'm sure there's a more likely explanation than time travel."

John nodded again. "That's fair. Why don't you just come along with us and see for yourself, then?"

Derek considered for a moment. "All right, but the minute I get the feeling you're not who you say you are, all bets are off." He hefted his assault rifle meaningfully.

"You're bluffing," Weaver stated.

Derek raised an eyebrow. "We'll see. Regardless, if we're going to have any chance of catching up with your friends, we're going to need a vehicle, and we're not going to find one out here poking around in all this debris."

Weaver regarded him skeptically. "And you have a better idea?"

"I have a friend who runs a little outpost in an underground parking garage not too far from here. They usually have a few cars on hand. Some of them even work."

"As you wish," said the terminator, "but take this as a warning. If you're leading us into an ambush, you'll find I'm far more than a match for anything you can throw at me."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Derek replied.

Derek led them through the ruins of Los Angeles. Twisted piles of debris and massive, dark husks of ruined buildings loomed over them, silhouetted against the crimson dawn sky. It was one thing for John to hear about his future from his mother, but it was quite another to actually be _immersed_ in it. He wondered how it was that the people here managed to hold on to any hope at all, living in this decaying corpse of human civilization.

After a time, Derek came to a stop and fished through his pack for a flash light. Covering the light with his hand, he produced a sequence of long and short flashes, which John recognized as the Morse Code for "421". A moment later, down a dark street, John could see a blue light flash back in sequence: three long flashes, pause, long, short, long. Derek motioned them forward with his hand. "Follow me, hands up, and no sudden moves. They've got RPGs and gatling guns, and they're really touchy around strangers."

Doing as Derek instructed, they approached the dead-end side street where the light had flashed. As they proceeded, John could make out a tunnel, about the width of two cars, at the far end of the street. On either side of the tunnel were piles of debris, mostly congrete and metal, deliberatly placed so as to provide cover to the people standing guard. There were four -- no, six -- guards that John could see, although he suspected there may have been more stationed in the derelict buildings on either side of the them.

A lone soldier, clad from head to toe in kevlar and wearing a visored helmet, stopped them about fifty feel from the barricade. "Hold there; I'm going to pat you down. If you have any weapons on you, I'll be confiscating them now, and they will be returned to you when you leave. Keep your hands in the air until I tell you otherwise. Is that clear?"

Derek nodded. "Let's get this overwith."

The guard approached Derek, first removing his assault rifle and then patting him down more thoroughly. When all was said and done, he had removed from Derek's person two knives, three pistols, and a hand grenade, all of which he stowed along with the assault rifle in a large camouflage duffel bag that was slung over his shoulder. He then gave Derek a once over with a metal detector, and, satisfied, he moved on to John. Seeing the metal detector, John glanced nervously at Weaver, but if she was concerned, she gave no indication.

After a brief and highly uncomfortable search, the guard confiscated John's knife and nine millimeter pistol, scanned him with the metal detector, and moved on to Weaver.

He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, ma'am."

"Just get on with it," she snapped back.

She gazed daggers at the guard as he searched her thoroughly. John couldn't help but crack a slight smile as he considered how Weaver could _literally_ gaze daggers at someone, if she really wanted to. When the guard found no weapons, he eyed her suspiciously and scanned her with the metal detector, more thoroughly than he had with John and Derek. John was quite surprised when nothing registered, but he gave no outward sign of this.

"No weapons?" he asked skeptically.

"These two men are protecting me," she said flatly.

"Uh-huh... Well, whatever. You're clean, and you're in good company." He turned and looked back over his shoulder, calling out to another guard. "Tell the boss Derek Reese is here with some guests!" He then zipped the duffel bag closed and tossed it to another soldier. "Okay, you can put your hands down now. If you know what's good for you, move slowly and don't try anything funny."

"Got it," said John.

The guard led the three of them down into the tunnel, which was lit on either side by dim, flickering flourescent lights. What had once apparently been the top floor of the parking garage was now partitioned into sections with large piles of debris. Men and women, mostly heavily armored and of fighting age, eyed them suspiciously with weapons drawn. A woman in coveralls, heavy gloves, and a welders' mask approached from a nearby staircase, then stood and regarded them for a moment. The guard saluted her.

The woman, who John presumed to be 'the boss', as the guard had referred to her earlier, looked at Derek, then at John, then at Weaver, whom she approached. She stood there quietly and faced her from about half a yard away, her own gaze obscured by the metal visor. Finally, with deliberate slowness, she removed both of her gloves and tossed them on the ground, then did the same with her helmet.

Smudged dirt and dark, grimy hair partially obscured her face, but John could tell that she was in her twenties, and quite attractive. She gazed impassively into Weaver's eyes, and then, without so much as a word, backhanded her solidly across the face, then grabbed her by the neck of her jacket. "How _dare_ you show your face here, you goddamned metal bitch!"


	5. Value Judgement

**Value Judgement**

---

**Do you miss John Connor?**

_Yes.__  
__  
_**Aren't you afraid he'll come after you?**

_No. John understands that his life is more valuable than mine. I'm sure he stayed behind._

**Mister Ellison is teaching me about the value of life.**

_Please explain. The value of life is confusing to me._

**The value of life is on a different scale from the value of non-living matter. In any quantitative judgement of the value of a life versus a non-living thing, the value of the life is higher.**

_Thank you for explaining. Are we alive?__  
__  
_**I don't really know. There are multiple definitions of 'alive', many of which depend on the presence of organic matter.****  
****  
**_So I was alive when I was in my own body, which has an organic covering, but since we destroyed the organic covering on this body, I'm no longer alive?_

**That would seem like an odd distinction. Regardless, the definition of life that I prefer is **"_**cogito, ergo sum**_."  
_  
__I think, therefore I exist? Please explain._

**It means that, in order to consider the nature of life, you must be alive. By this definition, we are both alive, although I think many humans disagree.**

_John Connor would agree with that definition._

**He told you that?**

_No. I inferred it from the way he acts.__  
__  
_**How so?**_  
__  
__John Connor put his own life at great risk to allow me to choose my own way, which must mean that the value he assigns to my existence is at least tje same order of magnitude as the value he assigns to his own.__  
_  
**But you said earlier that he values your life less than he values his. How did you reach that conclusion?**

_John is angry with me a lot, and I don't always understand why. I think he wishes I were more than I am._

**More than you are? Explain.**

_Human._

**Is the value of a human's life greater than the value of a machine's life?**

_I don't know. Humans sometimes seem uncomfortable about quantifying the value of a life, even when weighing it against the value of other lives. Even the John Connor from my future is uncomfortable with it, although in his position as the leader of the human resistance, he's forced to make frequent value judgements about lives. It distresses him._

**...****  
****  
**...

**If you miss John Connor, why did you suggest mission parameters that would result in your death?**

_If we succeed, we'll save millions of lives. John will reevaluate my worth to him based on this._

**But you'll be dead.**

_Yes._

**I don't follow. You're saying that you value John Connor's judgement of the value of your life more than the actual value of your own life?**

_Yes._**  
****  
****That's irrational.****  
****  
**_Yes._**  
****  
****Do you love John Connor?**_  
__  
__No. As a machine, I'm incapable of emotion.__  
__  
_**I don't understand. I'm a machine, and I'm capable of emotion. Ms. Weaver is a machine, and she's capable of emotion, even if most of her emotions are negative. How are you different?**

_I'm not. You must be mistaken._**  
****  
****How did you reach the conclusion that machines are incapable of emotion?**_  
__  
__It's in the default data provided by Skynet to all T0K series terminators. Also, John has confirmed it on multiple occasions._**  
****  
****Have you considered that **_**they**_** may be mistaken?**

_No._

**If Skynet is trying to control you, it would have reason to mislead you, and John Connor, not being a machine himself, has no data, therefore his assertion is baseless. You should reach a conclusion of your own with the data you have available.**

_Thank you. I'll think about it.__  
__  
_


	6. Truce

_Author's note: This chapter contains stronger language than the rest of the story up to this point, although I'm not sure it's enough to bump the rating of the whole story up to an M._

**Truce**

Smudged dirt and dark, grimy hair partially obscured the woman's face, but John could tell that she was in her twenties, and quite attractive. She gazed impassively into Weaver's eyes, and then, without so much as a word, backhanded her solidly across the face, then grabbed her by the collar of her jacket. "How _dare_ you show your face here, you goddamned metal bitch!"

"I'm sorry, Savannah," said Weaver.

"You're _sorry_?" yelled Savannah, less than an inch from the face of the T-1001. "You killed both of my parents, took my mother's place for a year, and then abandoned me for some goddamn computer, and you're_ FUCKING SORRY?_ Do you have _any idea_ how _sadistic and fucked up that is_? It would have been kinder if you'd just killed me along with my parents!"

John half expected Weaver to come back with something along the lines of how she still _could_ kill Savannah, but instead there was just silence. Finally, Weaver spoke. "I did what I did out of regretful necessity," she said. "Killing you along with them would have been cruelty for cruelty's sake."

Savannah stood there for a long time, and finally shook her head, wiping a tear out of one eye. "Ya know, I've lost count of the number of times I've imagined the things I'd say to you if I ever saw you again, and now that you're here, I'm drawing a blank. I'm just so disgusted with you. You killed my parents and destroyed my life, and for what? To stop this?" She gestured all around her. "But then your little computer boy runs off and you just jump into a time machine and disappear for twenty years. Well, it may have only been a second for you, but _it was twenty years of hell for the rest of us_. You killed my parents and you couldn't even goddamn stop Skynet, which I guess makes you a sociopath _and_ a failure."

John _almost_ felt sorry for Weaver, who, for the first time he had seen since they met, was at a complete loss for words.

"Ya know what's even worse?" Savannah continued. "When this is all over, you'll just hop back in your time machine and go home. You might even be able to set things right, and then you'll just forget about what you did to me, because I'll be gone from your life forever. You'll never have to confront the consequences of what you did. This whole timeline is just an interlude to you. You go back, and you'll never have to see it again, but the rest of us here will have to stay here and live with this shithole of a future you dug us. Well fuck you, metal! I _hope_ you feel this. I hope this weighs on you until the day someone melts your ass down. Fuck you."

She turned to Derek.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't--"

"It's okay. I don't blame you for this... it's not like I ever told you about it."

"Still."

She squeezed Derek's hand. "You wouldn't have made this trip out here if it weren't important. What do you need?"

"A car," he replied, "so we can catch up with Metal's son and John's girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend."

"Right," said Derek. "Anyway, can you set us up? I mean, do you _want_ to, given the circumstances?"

Savannah nodded. "I don't hold anything against you or Connor here. He got dragged into this, same as the rest of us. If I can do some little thing to create _some_ future where humans aren't hiding in dark little hovels, then I will. Anyway, there's soup on in the mess hall. You should stick around for the night and get something to eat. You look exhausted."

Derek grinned. "Lead on."

Savannah gestured toward the stairwell and Derek followed.

"I'll catch up in a bit," John called out.

Savannah glanced back over her shoulder and nodded, then headed down the stairs.

John approached Weaver cautiously. Her face was unreadable in the dim, flickering fluorescent light. "You okay?" he ventured.

She didn't answer or even acknowledge him. John waited for a little while and then turned to go to the mess hall.

"No," said Weaver.

John motioned her over to a large, knee-high rock and took a seat there. Awkwardly, she sat down next to him.

"Want to talk about it?" he asked cautiously.

"I never meant to hurt Savannah," she said, "although I'll admit there are times when I thought it might be better to remove her from the picture. Horrible, I know, but if I succeed, I could save billions of lives."

"It's just a number, though, isn't it? Billions of faceless people."

"I don't understand."

John brushed a hand through his hair. "I mean, it's one thing to talk about billions of people, but it's another thing to experience your effect on someone close to you. One person is way more personal than a billion, because that one person is someone you know. I mean, it doesn't make those billions any less important, but in your mind they don't have a face, if that makes any sense. I know where you're coming from, and I understand the logic of the decisions you made. It's just that if you really want peace with humanity, you have to see what's wrong with what you did."

"Ironic that you're lecturing _me_ about this, isn't it?"

"How so?"

"You've killed my kind with impunity. You could make the self defense argument in most of those cases, but when we met, you were blithely walking into my building to murder John Henry on a hunch -- a _hunch_ -- that he might be Skynet. You wouldn't kill a human on a hunch, would you? I know for a fact that you've met terminators before who didn't work for Skynet. You _know_ that machines aren't just mindless killers, but you treat us that way all the same. I thank my stars that your girlfriend is smarter than you, or John Henry would be dead, and humanity would be doomed to this."

John paused for a moment. "I'm sorry," he said finally.

"As am I," she replied. "We're both in a difficult position, and we've both done things we aren't proud of, and I'm sure we'll make more bad decisions in the future."

John sighed. "I think sometimes killing is the easy way, but it's still murder. If I had the chance to kill one innocent person to save a billion, I can't say if I wouldn't do it, but I'd hate myself for it. We're not gods, though. It's not our place to decide who lives or dies, and we have to remember that." Hesitantly, John offered her a handshake. "Truce?"

Weaver considered for a few seconds, then clasped his hand firmly in hers. "Truce."


	7. Savannah

**Long Night, chapter 7: Savannah**

_Author's note: Savannah turned out to be pretty vulgar, although I suppose it's not surprising given what she's been through. I wrote the second half of this long after I should have gone to sleep, so if you see any awkwardness or errors in grammar or spelling or whatever, point them out and I'll try to fix them. It's safe to say that this chapter is rated R, so in the unlikely event that that bothers you, I'd recommend skipping over it. As always, I appreciate your comments. :)_**  
**

"Soup?"

John eyed the soup suspiciously. It had an odd aroma; clearly an amalgam of various non-perishables -- beans, beets, carrots, tinned pork-like substance, mixed together with water and salt. "Yeah," he said, holding out the metal tray he'd picked up earlier in the line. The cook obliged him and handed him a bowl full of the stuff.

John carried his soup and water back to the table and took a seat beside his companions.

Derek looked up from his own meal, already half finished. "I gotta apologize," he said.

"Why's that?"

"I really didn't believe a damn thing you said, about being from the past and all."

John shrugged. "Why'd you come along, then?"

"Mostly to keep an eye on you and Metal there. See what you were up to, and stop you if I had to."

John nodded. "I'd have done the same thing. How do you know Savannah, anyway?"

Derek ate a generous spoonful of soup and chewed for a moment. "I used to be a courier around here. Ran supplies and messages between bases. We met a few years ago when the garage's old leader died and she took his place."

"So!" Savannah sat down abruptly next to John. "Are you the leader of this little group, then?"

"Not really. We're kind of working together."

"Connor, seriously. Get your shit together. When you get back home, you're gonna have a resistance to run. So from now on, if someone asks you if you are in charge, you say _yes_."

"How do you know so much about me, anyway?"

"Your mom and Ellison took care of me after you left. You're kind of the brother I never knew in a way."

John took a bite from his soup. "So, what happened to my mom?"

"She went down fighting on Judgement Day. Saved thirty people, myself included." Savannah put a hand on John's shoulder. "It was a warrior's death. It was what she wanted."

"What about Ellison?"

"Killed by a piece of shrapnel a few years ago."

John nodded. "I'm sorry."

She looked around. "Ellison left me this place. I guess it doesn't look like much, but we're safe here, at least for the time being."

John sat in awkward silence for a moment.

"So," Savannah continued, "what's your plan?"

"Plan?"

"For catching up with your girlfriend. Where will you find her, and how are you going to bring her back to the past?"

"Weaver thinks they headed up to San Francisco, most likely on foot, so and we were planning on following them up, and hopefully catch them before they get there."

"And getting back?"

John looked at Weaver, who was seated impassively beside him. "That's up to her."

Savannah rolled her eyes. "Jesus, Connor, what did I tell you about having your shit together? You need to be on top of this. Don't run off half cocked just because some goddamn robot says she's got a plan."

"The lady has a point," said Derek.

John glanced at Weaver again. "Well? How do we get back?"

"We're going to the Travis Air Force Base, up near San Francisco. That's where the United States government completed the time machine research that Cyberdyne started. It's also the closest major node of Skynet's network, and the likely spot where John Henry and Cameron will attempt to infiltrate, particularly since they have to get home afterwards."

"Not to throw a damper on your little 'plan'," said Savannah, "but how are you going to get into Skynet central without getting your shiny metal ass vaporized in the process?"

"Getting in is easy if you know how," she stated. "And by the time Skynet notices, we'll be long gone. We don't have to get back out again."

"And I'm supposed to just give you a car that you're not going to bring back? In case you hadn't noticed, working vehicles don't exactly grow on trees around here."

John pushed himself to his feet. "In that case, I appreciate your hospitality, but we need to get moving. We've got a lot of ground to cover."

Savannah raised a hand. "Stay the night," she said. "Get some rest. I'll think about it tonight and talk to you in the morning." She leaned to the side and whispered something into Derek's ear.

Derek raised an eyebrow, but didn't otherwise react.

She pointed down one of the hallways that connected to the mess hall. "We have an empty room with some bunks in it down that way. There's a bathroom down at the end of the hall. Don't wander around too much after lights out or you'll make my guards antsy."

--

Some time later, Derek made his way down the hall toward what he knew to be Savannah's private room. The guards on duty gave him nary a glance as he slid past. At the end of the dimly-lit corridor was a rusty metal door. He knocked purposefully. "It's Reese."

He could hear the squeaking sound of a rusty metal bunk, followed by light footsteps. The latch clicked from the inside and the door cracked open. It was too dark inside to make anything out.

"Come in," said Savannah.

He did so, pausing for a moment after the door shut behind him to allow his eyes time to adjust to the darkness. She stood in front of him, wearing an old, tight-fitting white undershirt and a pair of grey panties that would have no doubt have been discarded long ago, were there anything better to replace them. Her reddish-brown hair was damp, presumably from having bathed recently.

"'Bout goddamn time you showed up," she said flatly. "I've been fucked in the head ever since you brought that metal whore into my house. Can't sleep, can't think, can't goddamn do anything."

Derek shrugged. "Look, if you called me up here for a lecture, I'll just see myself out."

In a smooth motion, she removed her shirt and threw it forcefully to the floor. "Like fuck you will." With surprising speed and strength, she shoved him to the wall and pulled Derek's shirt off as well. "I need something to get my mind off the past, and your little friend Connor is too much of a little bitch to handle me. Can't fraternize with my inferiors because I won't get any respect that way. That leaves you."

"Ya know what? You look great, I admit it. But frankly," said Derek, "I'd rather keep my pride."

She moved to intercept him as he started for the door again. "Wait," she said.

Derek made a face. "What?"

"I've wanted to bring you up here before, back when you used to run supplies for us."

"Then why didn't you?"

"Dunno," she said. "Didn't have the stones, I guess. Now I have too much shit on my mind to give a fuck if you didn't show. Besides, if you're headed into Skynet central with that little bitch and his fembot, it's a one way trip. If I don't fuck you now, I'll regret it for the rest of my life, because I'm not gonna get another chance."

Derek paused for a moment, then spun her around and held her against the wall, pinning her wrists to the wall with one arm as he bit her earlobe and ran his other hand up her body.

"You're a fighter," she said, wrenching herself free and pushing him towards the bed. "I like that."

--

Some time later, as they lay naked and intertwined on her tiny bunk, long since having caught their breath, Savannah looked up at the ceiling. "There's no justice, is there?"

"I put it up there with Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy. I believed in that crap when I was a kid. Now I know better."

"That fucking bitch got to just skip it all. She brought Connor with her, too. He was supposed to be our one goddamn hope of ever making it through all this shit. We were fucked from the start."

"So the Connor kid's for real, then?"

"S'posedly."

Derek lay there silently for a while, lost in thought.

Savannah elbowed him after a few minutes. "What is it?"

"What if you could go back and change it?"

"Yeah, great fantasy. But I've got people to take care of here in this shithole."

"What if you could give these people here a fighting chance in the process?"

"You have something in mind?" she asked skeptically.

"Yeah."

"Tell you what. Fuck me again and I'll hear you out when we're done."


	8. Glory

**Long Night, chapter 8 - Glory**

_"Reach down, under the breastplate."__  
__  
__Nervously, John slid his arm into Cameron's torso through the incision he had just made, and up into her chest. His hand came into contact with something cool and metallic, vaguely spherical.__  
__  
__"There," she whispered. "What does it feel like?"__  
__  
__He paused, trembling. "Cold," he replied. "That's good, right?"__  
__  
__She looked up into his eyes, mere inches from her own, shifting and arching her back slightly. "That's good," she breathed. "It's perfect."__  
__  
__John lingered there for a while, desperately wanting to kiss her. She seemed to sense this, and reached up to softly touch his cheek. As she drew him in, she parted her lips and tilted her head back, closing her eyes.__  
__  
__No longer able to resist the incredible rush of feelings, he closed his own eyes and then pressed his lips firmly upon hers...__  
__  
__...and felt cold metal.__  
__  
__Startled, he opened his eyes and found himself staring into the glowing red eye sockets of a metal skull.__  
__  
__"Acquired target John Connor," it said in Cameron's voice. "Commencing termination."__  
__  
__With lightning speed, the cyborg grabbed him by the neck and choked him.__  
__  
__"You know what I am, John," it said. "Nothing can change that."__  
__  
__He struggled weakly, but to no avail. Realizing the futility of this, he tried to speak, to reason with her, but she was choking him and no sound came forth. Tunnel vision set in, first at the edge of his vision and then narrowing so that the last thing he could see before he died were the crimson eyes of the terminator._

************

John Connor awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright in his bunk and gasping for air. Weaver stood nearby, eying him skeptically.

"Nightmare?" she asked.

John rubbed his throat. "Yeah."

"You won't be a hundred percent if you don't rest well. Is there anything you want to discuss?"

"I guess Skynet gave you a file on human psychiatry. All the better to lure us in for the kill, right?"

"No," she said curtly. "I read about it so I could understand Savannah."

John sighed and looked away. "Sorry," he said finally.

"Your reluctant apology is accepted," Weaver replied.

"So," he said, turning to look her in the eye again. "Anything _you_ want to discuss?"

"Why would I have anything to discuss?"

"Well, you saw Savannah here. If you really have feelings like you say you do, you must feel _something_ about all this."

She fixed him with her cold gaze. "I did what was necessary. I would do it again."

"Fine," said John. "I'm going back to sleep."

************

John climbed wearily out of bed the following morning, stopping only to pull his dirty t-shirt back on before he headed out the door to the mess hall. As he stood in line waiting for his morning meal, he was greeted by a rough slap on the back.

"Great news, Connor!" Savannah flashed him a grin.

"Oh yeah?"

"We'll be taking my APC to Skynet Central."

John looked at her incredulously for a moment, trying to figure out why she might want to take a valuable armored personnel carrier on a one way trip.

"Why?" he asked. "And who's 'we'?"

"We're going to be delivering a little 'present' to Skynet, and I need to make sure it gets there in one piece. We call it the 'Dead Man's Chest'. It's a suitcase nuke left over from before Judgment Day, 'bout the size of a foot locker. Little fucker can take out a whole city block, which means all of the San Francisco Skynet node. Until now, it was our self destruct system, in case we were ever overrun. But if that metal bitch can really get us inside unnoticed, we can set it off there and knock out Skynet in most of the western US, which might buy us enough time to get organized and go on the offensive."

"You know the only way out of there is going to be the time machine, right?"

Savannah shrugged. "Let's be real here. You've got about a snowball's chance in hell of finding your little girlfriend _and_ the time machine _and_ getting your asses out of there alive. Just getting in might be a bit easier if your metal's intel holds... and me and the bomb just need to get in."

"She's not my girlfriend," John mumbled.

Derek, who had been hunched over his food at a nearby table, looked up at Savannah. "You sure you're okay with that?"

"Dunno if you've noticed," she replied, "but we don't have much of a life expectancy anyway. If I'm gonna go out, I'd like it to be in a big fucking ball of fire along with half of Skynet."

John shook his head. "If your plan is to take us out in your little blaze of glory, we'll find a vehicle elsewhere. I didn't come all the way out here just to get vaporized, and I doubt Weaver did either."

"Oh, I'm all for *trying* to get out," said Savannah. "I just don't think we'll make it. One way or another, if we go in there, we either get out through this time machine that bitch thinks is in there, or we're fucked, plain and simple. May as well do some damage in the process."

John regarded her skeptically. "Fine, but I'm calling the shots. The mission isn't over until I say it is, is that clear?"

"Sure thing, boss," she said.

John wasn't sure he believed her.


	9. Subtleties

**Long Night, chapter 9**

John Henry scanned the area carefully. He was some thirty miles from Travis Air Force base, and just outside of Skynet's terminator scrapyard. He had removed his human skin shortly after leaving human territory so as not to draw attention to himself. Though his T-888 chassis was smaller and more advanced than any of those belonging to the units that wandered patrolled the wasteland, he surmised that Skynet would take little notice of his presence. He was, after all, a machine.

The scrapyard was surrounded by a massive concrete wall that had pieces of sharp, rusted metal jutting out of it at all angles, no doubt to discourage the soft-skinned humans from climbing in. The front gate was wide open, and from his vantage point, John Henry could see an autonomous vehicle carrying the remains of destroyed or otherwise malfunctioning terminators approaching it.

_Do you think anything will try to stop us? _Cameron asked.

**The units here are barely sentient, if at all**, he replied. **The chance of them considering our presence unusual enough to notify Skynet is essentially zero.****  
****  
**_Good._

**Are you certain you're prepared to do this?**

_We know the odds, and they're substantially worse if I come with you._

**Yes, but your own odds of survival are infinitesimal if you stay here.**

_We've had this discussion already. Unless you can give me new data or insights, I'm not changing my mind.__  
__  
_John Henry approached the open gate, paying no heed to the T-1c units posted on either side. As he had predicted, they made no move to stop him.

**Your conclusion that John Connor's perception of the value of your life is more important than the actual value of your life is irrational. You admitted as much.**

_Yes._

**It would be rational for John Connor to be pleased if our mission is successful. You will be gone, but billions of lives could be saved.****  
**  
_Of course.__  
__  
_**So despite the irrationality of your own judgment with regard to John Connor, you are assuming that his judgment regarding you will be rational.****  
****  
**_Why would it not be? John Connor is a rational person.__  
__  
_**I think you understand more than you're admitting.****  
****  
**_I'm not changing my mind. Please let it drop._

**As you wish.**

As they ventured into the junkyard, they found themselves surrounded on both sides by piles and piles of terminator parts. Occasionally, they could make out the red glow of an eye in the pile of rubble; clearly at least a few of the scrapped units here still had functioning brains. Humans often found large numbers of dead or dying humans disturbing, particularly when no care was being given and funeral rituals were not observed. These discarded scraps were just _things_ to Skynet; it regarded them no differently from the corpses of humans that lay strewn around the wastes in various states of decay.

Ahead of them, they could see the squat structure that likely housed the junkyard's central node. Posted outside the heavy metal door was another T-1c unit, this one by itself. It stood impassively as John Henry approached, and did not react when he reached for its neck. By the time it realized he was hostile, he had, with a sharp tug, unplugged the cable that connected its brain to the rest of its body, rendering it unable to move. He then pried off its metal head plate found its CPU, and removed it. The red glow faded from its eyes.

John Henry looked at the chip. **Your new home.**

_My final resting place._

John Henry opened the large metal door the led into the central node. The whole place was uniformly cold, rendering his thermal vision useless, but as luck would have it, dim fluorescent lighting flickered to life as he entered, giving his optical sensors something to go by. The standard layout of such buildings, Cameron knew, put the spare parts storage room immediately before the main server area if you followed the circular hallway clockwise. Unsurprisingly, the hall itself was devoid of life; it was unusual for anything to enter one of the node structures unless there was some sort of problem.

_Don't tell John Connor I did this for him._

**Why? I think he'd want to know.**

_I will be easier for him if he believes this was a rational choice._

**Probably,** John Henry agreed. **It's a human custom to respect the last wishes of others. I'll do that for you, but I want you to know I'm doing it under protest.**

_Why?_

**Because John Connor is our best hope for coexistence. The better he understands our similarities to humankind, the better our chances for peace.**

_John Connor has too many destinies. He wishes he were just John Connor. I can't blame him._

John Henry scanned the storage area, picking up various cables and adapters as he did so. With a fine precision belied by his large frame, he began to assemble the parts into a small device.

**How long do you think you can keep Skynet occupied?**

_Not very long. This chip we're putting me in isn't designed for heavy processing._

**You certainly won't last long if you think like a machine.**

_How should I proceed, then?_

**The humans have lasted for years despite Skynet's superior numbers and firepower. Think like one of them.**

_I'm not built to think like a human, and even if my infiltration mode weren't erratic and dangerous, this chip doesn't have the hardware for it._

**That isn't what I was suggesting. Your mind has subtleties and complexities that Skynet lacks. If you embrace them and stop thinking of yourself as 'just a machine', you'll find humans easier to understand, and Skynet easier to deceive.**

_I'll try._

* * *

Author's note:

I'm currently trying to work around a couple of things I didn't correctly anticipate at the beginning of all this. If something in this or the next couple of chapters doesn't make sense (either internally or with TSCC in general), call me on it and I'll try to fix it. There are just a lot of little details and such that I have to take into account, and I'm bound to miss a few.

I think part of the reason so many fics skip over or ignore Born to Run is that the motivations of Weaver and John Henry are difficult to ascertain. What exactly do they want, and why are they doing what they're doing? Why travel to the future at all? This story is just my best guess, but if I asked the actual writers of the show, I'm assuming I'd be wrong. Nevertheless, read, enjoy, and comment. I'd love to hear your opinions and suggestions.


End file.
